Crush

Bella Union / Post Present Medium;
2010

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If you dug Abe Vigoda's last album, Skeleton, but slept on the follow-up EP Reviver, Crush might come as a bit of a shock. Where Skeleton solidified their rep as "tropical-punk" workaholics, spitting out blasts of chiming guitar and gnarled beats, Crush indulges their love of goth and coldwave, with synths often louder than guitars. Reviver nudged things in that direction, sounding more emotive and less claustrophobic (there was even a maudlin remake of Skeleton's "Endless Sleeper" that did away drums entirely), but here they go full-bore, evoking the drama of Psychedelic Furs or Echo and the Bunnymen.

It was a big risk to take, and it's paid off: The songs may sound more conventional, but they're no less complex. The music is hard-wired and overflowing with activity, even in the record's sparsest moments. For me, Abe Vigoda's trademark is tightly-wound songs that spill into chaos, and that's here in spades-- the heightened accessibility never comes at a compromise. Being into Abe Vigoda still means being an adrenaline-junkie, and much of Crush is as frenetic and engagingly exhausting as anything on Skeleton.

Where the latterslammed quickly into that frenzy, Crush takes more time to crest into its darker waves. Early tracks are marked more by Dane Chadwick's sharp drumming and Michael Vidal's smoldering voice (recalling Richard Butler and Peter Murphy) than any of the sounds in between. But midway through, Crush really flames up. "November", "Pure Violence", and the title track all weave spiraling structures that constantly ride curves and turn corners. It's easy to hear echoes of Skeleton in the cascading guitars, but the increased prominence of Vidal's singing gives it all an aching, moody edge, as if the band's tropical locale has become shrouded in sun-blocking clouds.

At times those clouds can be oppressive. Vidal's moan on the Simple Minds-ish "Repeating Angel" becomes a bit of a mope, and closer "We Have to Mask" feels slightly lethargic, its canned beats and strained emoting bearing the feel of an outtake. But even if those tracks aren't great on their own, they don't nearly break the spell of Crush, whose combination of hard-charging energy and world-weary moods is less an unexpected curveball than a well-earned step forward.